


Honor and Sugar

by herbailiwick



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Food, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 14:44:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2585162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbailiwick/pseuds/herbailiwick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>amayakumiko prompted: "Sambenny? Have you done anything with Benny cooking for Sam? I don't remember. But I love the idea that Benny shows his love via food, and Sam's all, 'You cook, for me? Thing I like???'"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honor and Sugar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amayakumiko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amayakumiko/gifts).



For Sam Winchester, food was a solitary experience. The other guy was in one world, you were in another, and that was best. He'd wanted proper Thanksgiving meals once upon a time, had wondered what it would be like if Mom had been able to make him a birthday cake. Someone having to make Sam something had always meant resentment, though. It had _always_ meant quiet anger that Sam existed.

Sam hated food sometimes, actually hated it. He had a sensitive digestive system and memories of being silently accused of trying to take down his family single-handedly with his  _basic human needs_.

Oh, that childhood.

Even Dean's recent burger craze due to their _real, actual kitchen_ hadn't lasted more than about a month. Then, it was back to "feeding Sam" being some big burden. Well, fine. Sam was 30. They didn't need to share that. They didn't need to share anything. Forget he'd asked.

When new bunker resident Benny offered to cook for Sam, he figured, after looking around to make sure the query hadn't been directed at Dean somehow, why the hell not? Benny couldn't resent Sam anymore than he already did. And, if he could, well, maybe the food'd be good anyway.

"Whatever?" he answered.

"You ain't gonna whatever when you taste it," Benny assured him. 

"Wait, you worked at a restaurant, didn't you?" Sam said. He was slipping, forgetting that. He was slipping even more for actually being interested.

Sam's goals regarding Benny were thus: 1) Keep track of all the info, just like with everyone else, even Dean. 2) Keep up wall of suspicion. 3) Don't care too much.

The last one sounded harsh, yeah. But Sam was gonna be hurt by him either way. No relationship didn't hurt Sam. Might as well be prepared, might as well try to hold onto some sort of distance.

"You can come watch me, if you think I might poison it," Benny teased, and Sam sighed, but didn't take the bait either way. 

"I'll just keep reading," he informed Benny, holding up his book. And so, he read. And when Benny came back, apron on with a bowl and grinning, Sam put the book aside.

Honestly, it smelled good. If Benny poisoned him, Benny poisoned him. He'd be worried for Dean, but so many people, so many monsters, liked Dean and not Sam, unless they could use Sam. Benny had nothing Sam wanted, except maybe that gumbo.

"You get the first bowl," Benny teased. "Dean can have some later, unless you eat it all up."

Sam rolled his eyes. Benny knew his eating habits by now. He'd seemed interested in them, and Sam now remembered Benny worked at a restaurant. Maybe they could try and get Benny another job. It would give him something to do.

Sam had dug the spoon in and tasted before he'd even realized he was doing it. His hand slowly curved around the warm bowl for a moment. Oh. He glanced up, then looked back down, scooping up some more. 

Sam dragged the bowl toward himself slightly. Oh. Okay.

Benny sat down. He actually pulled the chair next to Sam out, then carefully sat down, watching Sam.

"I love it!" Sam said with a full mouth. "Not that I've exactly had much gumbo, but, oh my god."

Benny grinned again. He took pride in his food, apparently. Sam could see why. It struck Sam Benny didn't exactly smile very much. He hadn't noticed. 

"I wouldn't poison the guy that saved my life. I got more honor'n most vampires," Benny shared. "Plus, I think you got more honor'n most men."

Sam's hands froze on the bowl and the spoon and he stared at Benny. His cheeks began to feel warm. Oh. He was blushing. Was he blushing? Oh, god, it'd been a while since anyone but Crowley had made him blush.

Benny glanced at Sam's face for a moment. Shit. What if vampires could sense that rush of blood?

Sam jammed some more gumbo in his mouth. "It's okay, if you don't want to be my friend," Sam said. It should have been a given; he shouldn't have had to say it. "I promise, I'm not mad. I'm not out to kill you. I'm cautious about who Dean lets get close to him. I'd just lost him, and he wouldn't talk to me about you." Sam took another bite. "He told me to blindly trust you, and, I'm sorry, but I'm not that stupid. I'm  _stupid_ , but not  _that_ stupid." Was he babbling? He was babbling.

"You don't have to explain that!" Benny said, sounding shocked. "Sam, I'm a vampire. I killed your Martin. We only met for one minute, and you were shocked cause Dean never told you his 'friend' was a vampire himself."

Sam sagged in relief. "So, you understand?" he tried, a little wary.

"You must think I'm just throwin' words around," Benny said, looking a little disappointed. "When I say you're honorable. I don't throw that word around. There aren't many honorable people."

Sam took a few bites, trying to look as grateful as possible. They tasted just as good as the first few bites. "Dean accused me of being jealous he has a friend the other day," he shared. Benny's eyes did something strange; they grew sort of cold and unreadable. Sam ignored it. "It's true, to some extent. Bobby, remember him? He was a good friend. I haven't really had one since then, not in a way that meant I was special to anyone, and I guess I'm kind of tired of that? I'm happy for Dean; I honestly am. I understand why people like him. I guess I just...." He trailed off and shoved some more food in his mouth.

"Please ignore me," Sam said, mouth full, feeling uncomfortable with the new wave of—was that pity?—coming from Benny. "I'm less pathetic than this, I swear," Sam said gently, trying to fight the scratchy sensation of tears. Just what he needed, to cry in front of someone who didn't care.

A large, strong hand was on Sam's back. It was Benny's. 

"You don't look pathetic to me," Benny said. "You look like someone who ain't used to kindness. Believe it or not, I understand. You don't know how lonely I was after Dean cut me off."

"I'm sorry," Sam said, and he was actually crying now, tears making themselves known. "Benny, I told him that he needed to cut off ties." He didn't deserve a hand at his back, even though, contrary to what he would have thought, it felt nice.

"You thought I was dangerous," Benny reminded Sam. "You're so understandin'. Don't you think someone else might be understandin' of you?"

Sam made a small, choked sobbing sound and dropped the spoon to cover his eyes with his hand for a moment. "Sorry," he said. "Sorry."

Benny's hand pulled away. 

"Sorry," Sam said again. 

But Benny wasn't leaving, it turned out. Sam moved his hand just in time to see Benny slowly leaning toward Sam for a hug. Sam didn't mind, honestly. He returned the approach, and they fitted together. He made another sob, and didn't really care too much.

"Dean's a pretty good guy. But you live with a guy, and with the guy's brother, and you see a few things."

"Things?" Sam sniffed heavily, dreading the idea of potentially getting snot on the vampire for some reason, like that mattered.

"Yeah. He ain't very nice to you. I can be your friend, and it doesn't have to be through anyone, even Dean. You were the one who believed in that vampire Dean told me about."

"Lenore," Sam said, surprised. It seemed like so long ago. "Cas killed her," he admitted. "She wanted to die, and," his breath hitched. He adjusted his grip on Benny, pulling him in even tighter. "God, don't tell Dean about this."

"You crazy? I wouldn't," Benny said, voice a little huskier, like maybe he was dealing with a potentially teary situation of his own. 

By the time they finally pulled apart, the gumbo was cold. 

***

Sam shuffled his feet, standing by the side of the table as Benny read the paper.

"Want somethin', Sam?" Benny teased. He'd taken to grinning a lot more, pretty much every time he saw Sam. Sam kept wondering if he was blushing; he probably was. Oh man. Dean could never know. Some comment about his "monster kink" or "the average lifespan of his hookups" would come, and Sam would be crushed. Sam did that enough in his own head. He certainly did not need Dean's assistance.

"I do," Sam blurted out. "Please cook for me?"

Benny threw the paper down with a dramatic gesture. "Tempted to start charging you," he said, giving Sam a quick once-over that froze Sam for a moment, eyes a little wide. Yeah, that was probably a come-on.

"Charging me what?" he asked, cautious.

"Oh, I'd think of somethin'," Benny promised lightly. He reached for Sam's hand briefly, giving it a tug. "Come on. You can help me this time."

"I can't cook," Sam said suddenly, physically withdrawing, if just slightly. His fear of failure, of making an idiot of himself, was larger than it should have been, but knowing that didn't solve the problem.

"Well, I can. And I say I want an assistant."

"You're gonna regret it."

"I already don't," Benny said, leading the way. "Tried to cook with Dean, you know. He didn't wanna let me lead, so I kicked him out."

Sam grinned at that. He liked the idea of Dean getting kicked out of a kitchen for that.

"We're making beignets good enough to make you moan," Benny promised, and, dammit. Sam was blushing again.

Benny glanced at him to see his reaction, then sobered. "I'm sorry. Am I makin' you uncomfortable?"

How to answer that? On the one hand, yes. On the other hand, no, and the discomfort was so, so welcome. "Are you flirting with me? Are we flirting with each other?" he asked, desperately wanting to know.

Benny slowly grinned his mysterious grin. "My are you a breath of fresh air. You are a delight, Sam." 

Oh god. He was blushing harder, he was falling so hard for Benny. It was really happening.

"Don't tell Dean," Sam said reflexively. He'd taken to telling Benny that a lot. 

"Oh, Sam," Benny said. "Surely there's a lot of stuff we don't need to get Dean involved with, when it comes to the two of us."

Sam felt hot as they cooked, body at an odd, slow burn in a way he hadn't burned for Amelia, in a safer way than he'd burned for Ruby. He felt like an awkward beignet.

Benny told him what ingredients to get, and made him measure some of them out. 

"I gotta measure, and you can eyeball it all?"

"I done this a thousand times. You want 'em to be good, you measure. I'm past that step."

Benny reached for Sam's sugar-covered hand with his own after placing the last of the beignets on the tray. His grip was so strong, and firm. It was grounding. Sam wasn't one for much personal contact, but Benny felt so...real. Honest.

Sam leaned over and gave Benny a gentle kiss on the temple. "Thank you," he said. 

"You haven't even tried one yet," Benny protested, wresting his hand away to get a particularly pretty and basically cooled one for Sam to try.

"Is this a...date?" Sam asked, taking the donut, admiring it for a moment. He glanced at Benny for an answer.

"You bet it is," Benny agreed, offering a soft smile. "You bet it is."


End file.
